


Four Times Regina Ran Away from Home and Once She Ran Towards It

by IShipItLikeUPS



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Also I hate myself, Angst, Character Study, Evil Queen | Regina Mills-centric, F/F, F/M, Gen, I have a lot of feelings about Regina in general, I have a lot of feelings about Regina's childhood, Pre-Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-06 22:09:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8771335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IShipItLikeUPS/pseuds/IShipItLikeUPS
Summary: “Aren’t you tired?”“Tired of what?”“Of always running.”Regina doesn't know how to tell her that she doesn't know how to stop.
A look at Regina and home and her struggle to find it.





	1. Age Seven

**Author's Note:**

> Since I'm Actual Garbage™, here, have a new chapter in a new story instead of a new chapter in an old story. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Spanish used is Peruvian Spanish because that's what I grew up with. Translations for the lazy at the end.

_Gritting your teeth, you hold onto me_  
_It's never enough, I'm never complete_  
_Tell me to prove, expect me to lose_  
_I push it away, I'm trying to move_

 _Hoping for more, and wishing for less_  
_When I didn't care was when I did best_  
_I'm desperate to run, I'm desperate to leave_  
_If I lose it all, at least I'll be free_

_“Free”—Broods_

_“I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself.” —D. H. Lawrence_

 

The first time Regina runs away from home, she is seven years old, and the weather edges on winter. She does not have a plan other than to get _away_ , far away from her mother's seemingly endless reach. The night she sneaks out, it rains like she has never seen before, great sheets of icy water turning the grounds of her family's estate into a miring swamp.

It takes her five minutes to get lost.

It takes her five hours to admit it.

She had been hoping for the light of the moon to illuminate her path, a wishing star to guide her way, but even the fates, it seems, are against her. The rain pounds down on her, soaking her clothes and chilling her to the bone, and the mud grasps at her feet and legs with every step, holding her back from escape. 

She is seven years old and hopelessly lost, and she is fairly certain that if she does not find shelter soon, she will freeze to death out here, but she is still less afraid of her current situation than the idea of what awaits her come morning when her mother discovers she is missing.

After another hour of slogging through the torrential downpour, moments before she is ready to give in to the numbness crawling up her limbs and inching its way into the edges of her thoughts, Regina stumbles into the stable wall. It is the first time throughout the entire ordeal that she allows herself to cry (It would seem that Mother’s lessons stick.).

She takes shelter among the horses and hay. One of the mares has just given birth to a foal, and Regina watches them curled up together in their stall, the mother’s neck curved protectively around her child, holding it close even in sleep. A shiver interrupts Regina from wondering if all mothers are meant to love their children or if the problem lies with her. She pulls the horse blanket she found more tightly around her shoulders and eyes the pair warily before cautiously breaching the distance, carefully insinuating herself into their warmth. When she closes her eyes, the quiet chuffing of the sleeping animals and the insistent tapping of rain lull her to a dreamless sleep.

She awakes some time before dawn to her father's face peering worriedly down at her. She immediately bursts into tears, sobbing wordlessly into his jacket.

He looks at her like he understands.

He tries to distract her from her sorrow by pointing out the foal. “Reginita, ¿viste al caballito? Todavía necesita un nombre. ¿Qué tal?” When he gathers her trembling form in his arms, he whispers words of comfort into her hair.

Her tears die down to sniffles at the sound of his native tongue. Mother forbids him from speaking it to her, and every clandestine conversation feels like a stolen secret, weighted down with the gravity that comes from knowingly doing something against the rules. Privately, Regina finds it exhilarating, a small act of rebellion against her mother’s iron grip. She thinks maybe her papá knows. She thinks maybe this is why he does it anyway.

She examines the small colt lying before her, carefully turning over names in her head, silently sounding each of them out, but none of them feel right, and she finds herself discarding them again and again before one finally seizes ahold of her mind, something about it reminding her of the hidden language she shares with her papá. “Rocinante,” she declares with that certainty that can come only from children. “Su nombre es Rocinante.” 

“Hay, ¡y qué buen nombre es! Rocinante y Reginita. Van a ser un buen par.” Her father says it with that smile reserved only for her, the one where his eyes crinkle into crowfeet at the corners.

Regina turns to look at him with wide-eyed disbelief. “¿De verdad? ¿Para mí?”

Her father laughs at her incredulity before reassuring her. “De verdad. Todavía es muy pequeñito, pero un día, será más fuerte que lo que podemos imaginar.”

He looks at Regina strangely, then, and she gets the distinct impression that he means more than what he is saying, but she is too distracted by the prospect of her own horse to give it very much thought.

After she has sufficiently satisfied her need to pet her newfound friend, her papá gently reminds her that although she can visit Rocinante again soon, her absence at the manor will soon be noted, and Regina sobers with a speed beyond her years. She nods solemnly and allows herself to be swiftly led back to the manor where her papá draws her a bath and disappears with her dirty clothes.

She is sitting submerged up to her neck in the rapidly cooling water when her mamá—no, she corrects herself, her _mother_ ; there is always a certain moue of distaste across Cora’s face when Regina calls her mamá, a barely concealed derision for the sound of her papá’s foreign tongue—enters the room, and Regina has to make a concerted effort not to allow her body to give in to its natural reaction to flinch. She can hear her heart beating in her head, loud and frantic, and when Mother gives her that thin-lipped smile of hers, the one that doesn’t look much like a genuine smile at all, Regina has to remind herself that Cora doesn’t know about her indiscretion (It takes some convincing until she believes it; her mother seemingly _always_ knows and is quick to punish her. Regina has not yet grown cynical enough to consider that perhaps to Cora, knowing is irrelevant.).

Cora details her plans for Regina’s day, and Regina manages to muster up enough fake enthusiasm to fulfill the image of doting daughter, enough so that her mother leaves her to her own devices after only a brief conversation.

When the door closes behind her mother with a resounding _thud_ , Regina sinks down even lower in the tub. She has learned that when she submerges her head below the surface of the water, the outside world is momentarily rendered mute, and she is no longer Regina, Cora’s daughter, trembling beneath the weight of extraordinary expectations. Instead, she is no one at all.

Regina does this then, dunks herself into the depths of the bath and gives herself a moment to pretend at freedom. She allows herself this luxury for another few seconds before her lungs demand that she reemerge.

She breaks the surface of the water gasping, her surroundings swimming back into focus, and for anyone else, it might almost feel like waking up from a particularly bad dream.

But Regina is not anyone else. Regina is Cora’s daughter and afraid, not necessarily in that order, and even at seven-years-old, she already knows that there is no waking from this nightmare, not when her life is the very thing that she is trying to escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations for the lazy below:
> 
> "Reginita, ¿viste al caballito? Todavía necesita un nombre. ¿Qué tal?"-> "Regina, have you seen the baby horse? It still needs a name. What do you think?"
> 
> "Su nombre es Rocinante."-> "Its name is Rocinante."
> 
> "Hay, ¡y qué buen nombre es! Rocinante y Reginita. Van a ser un buen par."-> "Oh, and what a good name that is! Rocinante and Regina. You two will be a fine pair."
> 
> "¿De verdad? ¿Para mí?"-> "Really? For me?"
> 
> "De verdad. Todavía es muy pequeñito, pero un día, será más fuerte que lo que podemos imaginar."-> "Really. It's still very small, but one day, it will be stronger than we can imagine."
> 
> Let me know what you liked and/or hated. Thanks for reading!


	2. Age 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a while, Regina is the happiest she has ever been. 
> 
> She visits the stable, and she rides Rocinante until it feels like she is flying, and for some time, she has no need for dreams. After all, wishing is for people whose hopes are unattainable, and with Daniel by her side, she has no such qualms. Regina looks at him and thinks of the future, and for the first time that she can remember, those thoughts do not make her heart ache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot that not everyone speaks Spanish and that people aren't necessarily willing to use Google Translate, so I've gone back and added translations to the previous chapter to make everyone's life easier.
> 
> Apologies if this chapter is a bit discombobulated; I wrote this instead of packing my bags for my flight home tomorrow, and I may or may not have had an entire bottle of wine in the process because I won't be able to take it through customs. Oops.

It has been nine years since Regina last tried to run away, and she is older now, old enough to know better (Privately, she thinks that maybe she is only old enough to understand fear in a way that she could not at the age of seven, but she keeps these thoughts to herself.). Sometimes at night, she still feels the urge, an itching beneath her skin that crawls its way up her spine and into her mind, half formed plans of an impossible escape that disappear with morning light. But she never puts her wishes into action, merely keeps them tucked away in the recesses of her mind like so many other forgotten dreams.

Besides, she has a reason to stay, now, a reason with an easy smile and eyes as blue as the sky she used to stare into when she believed in more. Sometimes, when she looks at him, she still does.

His name is Daniel, and he is unlike anyone she has ever met. He treats her like she is important, but it is not in the way that the people Mother surrounds her with treat her—theirs is a hushed reverence borne of fear, a glint of malice in their eyes even as they swear their fealty. Daniel looks at her like he _sees_ her, sees _her_ , Regina, the person, not Regina, the ticket to Cora’s good graces (And oh, if they only knew.).  He listens when she speaks, believes what she says, tells her that what she feels is good and true and valid, doesn’t write her off or brush her away like her mere existence is an unforgivable act of audacity, and she thinks she might love him, not because of his gentle ways but because for the first time in 16 years, he has shown her that there is something within her worth loving, that she was _right_ all those years ago when she looked at Rocinante and his mother and knew that that was the way it should be. She thinks she might love him, but this, too, she keeps to herself, because what would she know of love?

So she says nothing, only increases her visits when he is working, hoping that he can understand the words she doesn’t know how to say. The stable, like it was at seven years old, becomes her safe haven. At first, she maintains the fiction that her visits are solely for Rocinante’s sake, and Daniel plays along, but with every small smile he gives her whenever she says this, Regina finds her resistance weakening, and soon, she drops the guise altogether, content in the knowledge that she is fooling no one.

The first time they kiss, she has just beaten him in a race, and he is smiling good-naturedly at her joyous laughter, mouth curling up at the corners, and Regina finds, quite unexpectedly, that she would like to know what his lips feel like against hers. Abruptly, her laughter halts, and the moment is suddenly heavy with the weight of their gazes. Regina realizes, then, that he is not looking at her any differently than he normally does, that nothing about the situation has changed except for her. That perhaps he has been patiently waiting for her, in that way that he has, to come to terms with it herself.

The very thought of it makes her heart beat faster.

Still, Daniel says nothing, just smiles that small smile at her, and Regina finds herself telling him that she would very much like to kiss him. And so they do.

***

For a while, Regina is the happiest she has ever been.

She visits the stable, and she rides Rocinante until it feels like she is flying, and for some time, she has no need for dreams. After all, wishing is for people whose hopes are unattainable, and with Daniel by her side, she has no such qualms. Regina looks at him and thinks of the future, and for the first time that she can remember, those thoughts do not make her heart ache.

So she sneaks kisses with him, hidden by stable walls, and sometimes, they lie next to each other in piles of clean hay and discuss philosophy and grand ideas. It is here, surrounded by the smell of animals, that Daniel first tells her he loves her. There is something sacred about the moment, something binding, a sincere confession with horses as their only witnesses. A covenant sealed with a kiss.

And life, which has so often been unkind to Regina, is good.

***

Sometimes Daniel asks about telling her parents. Regina hates these conversations, hates the look of disappointment on his face when she tells him that they mustn’t, that they _can’t_. She tries to explain it to him, once, but she lacks the words to describe how speaking to her mother feels like walking on eggshells, and he looks at her like her reasons are excuses.

She does not begrudge him for it. He does not know her mother, not like Regina does. He cannot possibly hope to understand how Cora rules through fear, through withheld affection and carefully doled out praise. How Regina is not only afraid for her own sake but for Daniel’s, too, afraid of what will happen to him when he is seen not as a person but as an interference. How, despite all of this, Cora is still her mother, and although Regina fears her, she still craves her love, her approval, her blessing. Regina scarcely understands it herself, lies awake at night sometimes struggling to puzzle through it to no avail. She does not blame him for his confusion.

So from then on, whenever he brings up the topic, Regina steers the conversation toward safer waters, and Daniel, gentle as he is, lets her. And although their boat sometimes rocks during the journey, it always seems to stabilize.

***

The end, as ends are wont to do, comes with no warning.

Daniel has just asked again about revealing their love to her parents, and Regina is in the middle of attempting to explain all the reasons why it is a terrible idea when they hear a cry for help.

A young girl races by on an out of control horse, and Regina springs into action, straddling Rocinante and urging him onward. The runaway horse is fast, but she has been riding Rocinante for nearly ten years, and like her papá predicted all that time ago, they make _un buen par_ , and they are faster. She easily reaches the frenzied horse and rider. “Give me your hand!” she shouts, stretching her arm toward the panicked girl, and she launches herself into Regina’s hold, her own horse, now riderless, racing directionlessly into the distance.

They dismount, and the girl stares at Regina with wide eyes. “You saved my life,” she breathes. She says it like a benediction, but Regina hasn’t believed in a higher power than her mother in years, and she brushes it off, concerning herself instead with ensuring that the girl is unharmed.

When Regina is satisfied that she is alright, she introduces herself. “Regina,” she says with a smile, and the girl blinks guilelessly up at her when she responds, “I’m Snow. Snow White.”

Regina walks Snow back to the manor while Daniel attempts to retrieve the vagrant horse. All the way there, Regina concerns herself with how she should best explain this strange girl’s presence. As matters would have it, she doesn’t have to. Cora plays the perfect host, fawning over Snow and showering her with compliments on her bravery in the face of fear. She arranges for a message to be sent to Snow’s guardians and insists that she stay until she can be escorted home, claiming that she has been through enough trauma for one day already.

Later, Regina is examining herself in the mirror before her riding lesson with Daniel when Cora approaches her, glancing disdainfully upon her outfit before enveloping her in a cloud of smoke with a snap of the fingers. When the magic dissipates, Regina looks down to find herself in a gown. Cora waves away her protests, and Regina would continue to argue, but her mother is looking at her with rare approval on her face, and just like that, Regina is a little girl once more, desperate for her mother’s love.

“Smile,” Cora says, rearranging Regina’s hair. “We don’t want to disappoint him.”

When Regina expresses her confusion, Cora leans in, whispering conspiratorially, as if the two of them are privy to secret knowledge. “The King,” she says, laughing when Regina gapes in surprise at her.

“Why is the King coming?” asks Regina, wondering what could possibly warrant a guest of that stature visiting their home, and when Cora takes her face in her hands in a wholly uncharacteristic display of affection, Regina realizes that she doesn’t really care what the answer is as long as her mother continues to look at her like she hung the moon.

Cora is in the middle of explaining that Snow, the girl, is in fact Snow, the princess, and that King Leopold has decided to come pay his respects to the young woman who saved his daughter when her papá enters the room with a group of men in tow. Cora abruptly stops speaking, curtsying in deference to one of the men among them who is dressed in richly colored clothes. “Regina,” her papá says, gesturing to the man behind him, “this is Snow White’s father.”

Regina is momentarily rendered mute at being in the presence of royalty, simply nodding dumbly in understanding before her mother’s glare reminds her to curtsy in respect. But King Leopold shakes his head, bowing before her instead. “You saved my daughter’s life,” he says. “There is no way to repay that debt. It is an honor to meet you.”

The King speaks of his late wife, explaining that he worries for Snow, growing up without a maternal figure, and something inside Regina jumps to attention, suddenly coming to the realization that royalty does not pay a visit simply out of gratitude. And then the King is kneeling before her, holding out a ring, and he asks, “Will you marry me, Regina?” in the voice of a man who has never been denied anything and is certain in his question’s response.

Regina sends a panicked look to her papá, but he can only look back helplessly, unable to interfere in the events that are unfolding before them. Her eyes dart to the other men standing behind her papá, and all but one look away. The lone brave soul to meet her gaze looks at her sympathetically before lowering his eyes.

She opens her mouth to protest, but before any words come out, she is interrupted by her mother. “Yes,” says Cora, and the smile of approval on her face that brought Regina comfort before suddenly fills her with revulsion.

Regina feels the thing inside her that first warned her something was wrong wither and turn black.

***

Regina bursts into the stables in a frenzy. “Daniel!” she calls. “Daniel!”

He exits the stall he was in, concern written across his face. “What is it?” he asks, opening his arms to receive her, and Regina throws herself into them, burying her face against his neck and breathing in his smell—horses and hay and hard work.

“Marry me,” Regina says, and she watches his face illuminate with hope before going carefully neutral again when she explains what has happened. It dawns on her, quite suddenly, that there is only one escape from this situation. “The only way out is to run,” she says. “For us to leave this place, for us to be married, for us to never come back.”

Daniel pulls her close and holds her in that way that people hold the ones they are preparing to let go. “Do you understand what that would mean?” he asks her, as if she is some sort of stranger to loss. But Regina is achingly familiar with leaving things behind, and she is tired of it. Daniel looks at her intently when she says as much, searching her face for something, and he must find it because he presses a kiss to her palm before ripping a grommet from his bag and sliding it onto her finger like a makeshift ring, a promise of things to come. And then his lips are against hers, and for a moment, Regina feels like maybe everything will be alright. But then something hits the ground, and suddenly Snow White is there, staring at them with betrayal in her eyes, leather saddle at her feet, before she turns away and flees.

Regina and Daniel share a look, and then she is running after her, tripping over sticks and stones in the dark as she hastens to catch up. “Snow!” she calls. “Snow!”

When she reaches Snow White, the girl is crying, and Regina’s heart clenches in her chest as if she has done something wrong merely for loving the person she does. She pulls Snow into an embrace and tries to explain to her why things are the way they are, why they must be that way, but truthfully, Regina doesn’t have all the answers herself, and she lapses into silence instead. Finally, she tells Snow of her mother. How she has finally realized that making her happy at the cost of her own happiness is not a fair price. And for one fragile instant, Snow looks at her like she understands. “That’s why you’re running,” she says, wise beyond her years, and Regina nods. “It’s the only way our love can survive.”

Regina stares seriously into Snow’s eyes and asks her to make a promise. She doesn’t know how important this moment will be later in her life, how this promise will lead to a betrayal will lead to a broken heart, how because of this, she will become dangerously like her mother, do things so horrible that they are beyond her comprehension. Regina does not know any of this at the time, can’t possibly, only knows that it is of paramount importance that Snow say nothing to anyone about what she saw. She stresses this to Snow White, but, used as she is to her mother’s machinations, she forgets to mention Cora’s manipulative streak. So when Snow swears her secrecy, Regina relaxes.

It is the beginning of the end.

***

The next night, Regina is in the stable once more, ready to make her escape. Daniel has made the necessary preparations, and he kisses her like a promise before they turn to leave. But Cora appears before them, hands glowing purple with rage, and she knocks them back with the force of her anger, slamming shut the doors to the stable so there is no way out, only an impending confrontation.

Regina glances at Daniel and sees the fear in his eyes, and it occurs to her that this is the first time he has borne witness to her mother’s magic. He helps her to her feet, and she immediately places herself between him and Cora. She does not delude herself into thinking that her mother is less likely to hurt her than him, but after 16 years of living in fear, she knows Cora; she is an indispensable pawn in her mother’s plans while Daniel is disposable.

They stand there and listen to Cora berate them, detail the sacrifices she made to achieve their current status, and Regina feels the familiar tug of obligation pulling at her heart before she steels herself against her mother’s special brand of guilt. But then Cora deflates before them, and Regina is reminded that although her mother is many things, not all of them good, she is also human and frail in all the ways that go along with it. So she does not question her mother’s sudden resignation, instead taking it at face value. Because despite all of her experience with Cora’s ways, more than anything, Regina wants to believe she loves her.

Cora approaches Daniel and takes him aside, and Regina listens as she tells him that being a parent means doing what is best for one’s children, and for a brief moment, it seems like Cora really does have Regina’s best interests at heart. But then her hand is plunging into Daniel’s chest, removing the pulsing organ and holding it high like some sick trophy, and Regina can only hold Daniel and watch as it speeds up its throbbing under Cora’s tightening grasp, beating faster and faster until it stops altogether and crumbles to dust.

Daniel dies in Regina’s arms, and her future dies with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let me know what you liked and/or hated. You can find me over on tumblr with the same handle!


End file.
